


Sleepover

by sailorstkwrning



Series: Team Bed [3]
Category: Buffalo Sabres - Fandom, Hockey RPF
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Team Bed, Team Building
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-20
Updated: 2014-11-20
Packaged: 2018-02-26 08:48:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2645645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailorstkwrning/pseuds/sailorstkwrning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Team Bed: Sabres edition, or: I try and put a little bit of sympathetic magic out in the world for them by writing team bonding and cuddles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleepover

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd, because I am again impatient; please note some liberties have been taken with some nicknames (though if nobody calls Matt Moulson "Sixpack" they REALLY SHOULD).
> 
> 100% fiction; if you got here by googling yourself or someone you know, HIT THE BACK BUTTON NOW.

The Sabres bed is, all things considered, not a _bad_ bed. Parts of it smell kind of weird, no matter how many times they change the sheets, and there’s one particular corner that Brian thinks might have gotten stuffed with actual rocks somewhere along the line. But it isn’t _bad._

It also isn’t good. 

And Brian can’t figure out what to do, how to fix it, where to even start.

Or maybe that’s the team. He gets the two confused, sometimes. 

He’s on his back, staring at the ceiling, arms out, reflecting on how at least they have a coverlet that was made sometime this _century_ and doesn’t smell like mothballs, when Matty Mo sticks his head around the door.

Brian sits up and puts his hands on his knees, bracing for a new crisis.

“Stafford said you were looking for me,” Mo says, gaze hovering between Brian’s face and the floor.

Brian pats the space next to him, and Mo comes over. He looks exhausted and sad.

“I’m okay, Gio,” he says, perching on the end of the bed.

“Glad to hear it,” Brian says, flopping back again, wincing when his spine encounters a lump he swears wasn’t there before. “I’m not.”

Mo lies down next to him, curles into his side. Brian drapes an arm around him. He stays quiet for a while, listening to the muffled noises from the room, the building settling, Mo’s steady breathing.

“Okay, Sixpack,” he says, grinning when Mo slaps his stomach in irritation at the nickname. “Old man to old man: did I fuck up?”

“What?” Mo says, pushing up on one elbow. “How?”

“Taking the captaincy,” Brian says, putting one arm behind his head. “Am I the jerk that waltzed in here and just - “ he waved his free hand - “ _took over_? Did I pull a Messier?”

Mo looks genuinely dumbfounded, which makes Brian feel a little better.

“Pommer got traded,” Mo says, settling back down against Brian’s side. “But no, I don’t think so.”

“And the kids?” Brian asks, because none of them are openly mutinous but one thing he’s learned from team meetings is that while half of them have no filter, Enzo and Hodgson’s poker faces are unexpectedly solid.

“Not that I’ve heard,” Mo says quietly. “They’re frustrated, and they’re angry, but not with you.”

Brian closes his eyes and rests his free hand on his face.

“Sometimes I wish we were a peewee team,” Mo mutters, wriggling deeper into the mattress. “Peewee was fun. I _liked_ peewee. We won games _all the time_.”

Brian wants to laugh, but it comes out more as a sigh. That one had stung.

“You talk to Crosby?” Matt asks, and Brian sighs again, more heavily this time. He’ll do it, since he said he would, but - maybe in a few days.

“I emailed JT,” Mo says.

Brian makes a _tell me more_ noise just as the door creaks further open and Enzo, Hodgson, Mysey, Zemgus, Rasmus and Nikita walk in, Enzo in the lead.

He stops when he sees them on the bed, eyes widening, and nearly causes a pile-up.

“Sorry,” he says, “the door was open -” and Brian waves it off. 

“What’s up?” Mo asks, sitting up.

“We were, uh, going to watch a movie,” Hodgson says.

“ _Mighty Ducks_ ,” Nikita supplies. “Zemmer, Razzy and I never see it.”

“The first one?” Mo asks, while Brian pushes himself upright.

“Yeah,” Enzo says. “Original and best.” He pauses, glances at Brian briefly, then squares his shoulders. “You want to watch it with us?”

“Sure,” Mo says, grinning. “You gonna make popcorn?”

“We have Pirate Booty,” Rasmus says from the back, raising the bags for their inspection.

“Good enough,” Mo says, scooting further back on the bed. “You in, Gio?”

“For a little while,” Brian says. “I’ve got -” he pauses, caught between the kids’ wary expressions and Mo looking happy for the first time all season. “I’ve got an appointment with my accountant later.”

Mo gives him a wry, understanding, _jeez when did we turn into grown-ups_ look and the kids all make sympathetic noises. Brian sits on the edge of the bed and watches them get organized. 

Mysey and Hodgson grab a couple of pillows and their road blankets to pad out the headboard and Nikita and Rasmus pull everyone’s home blankets out of the cubbies, while Enzo fiddles with the DVD player and Mo wanders off to find some bowls for the snacks. 

Ten minutes later they’re settled, Mysey and Hodgson sitting up and everyone else sprawled all over their legs and the bed, half on top of each other like puppies. 

Brian squints at them for a moment, then moves to sit next to Hodgson. There’s a little bit of shuffling and some good-natured grumbling, nothing unusual. He still doesn’t completely relax until Mo flops over one of his knees.

**

Brian ends up staying for almost the whole movie, partially because he gets enmeshed in the plot (and finds he has a new sympathy for Gordon Bombay), and partially because slowly but surely the rest of the team trickles in and climb in with them, and he’s trapped under a warm, heavy blanket of hockey players. A few of them fall asleep - he can hear Stafford snoring softly, somewhere in the middle - but mostly they’re awake and laughing. 

When Brian does finally slip away - after assuring Rasmus it’s okay, he knows how it ends, he saw the movie in a theater - he feels better than he has in days.

**

Two days later, they thrash the Maple Leafs, 6-2, and amid the general whooping for joy, Brian thinks _hmmm._

**

“We should have a sleep-over,” Brian says to Mo between drills during their next practice.

Mo arches an eyebrow at him.

“Not _us_ , Sixpack,” Brian says, whacking him gently with his stick. “The team.”

Mo’s expression turns thoughtful.

“It’s supposed to snow like a motherfucker tomorrow, right? But there’s no way the league will call the game on Tuesday. Be safer to sleep here tomorrow night,” Brian says. “Maybe get some pizzas and beer and watch some movies.”

“Is that what Sid told you to do?” Mo asks, as Zemgus tries to get one past Neuvy.

“No,” Brian says. “He suggested I have individual meetings with everyone and let them talk about their feelings.”

“In that case, I feel like a team sleepover is an excellent idea,” Mo says, and Brian grins.

“You bring the movies, I’ll take care of dinner,” Brian says, and skates off to take his turn with Neuvy.

**

Monday, they watch _Slapshot_ and _Goon_ and eat a lot of pizza, and Brian drifts off, full and content, with Mo scratching his back while Enzo tells a complicated story about thundersnow. 

Tuesday they beat the Sharks, and it isn’t effortless, but - it’s easier than it has been, and very specific weight lifts when Brian scores not one but _two_ goals. 

“Gio,” Mo says, mid-victory-dance, and Brian turns to look at him.

“We gonna watch more hockey movies next time, or can we do a _Lord of the Rings_?” Mo asks.

“We can watch anything you want, Sixpack,” Brian says, and just laughs when Mo chucks his dirty socks at Brian’s head.

**Author's Note:**

> I am on [Tumblr!](http://sailorstkwrning.tumblr.com)


End file.
